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His strange magic opened the portcullis at the end of the tunnel and the force of the blizzard squalls almost sent her tumbling backward. But Phineas took hold and pulled her forward.

The wind sliced at her cheeks, her neck. The sleet forced her eyes closed and she could not see where she was being led, she only knew that somewhere before them was the Chasm and beyond that the Ledge.

Perhaps Phineas would take her back where she belonged. She could return home.

It suddenly did not seem so bleak a place.

Phineas stopped on the ice, stabilizing her when she pitched forward. She could hear his panicked breaths, even over the howl of the wind.

Farra turned her head inside the shelter of her cloak hood to look at him. But his eyes were elsewhere, locked on something before them. Farra followed his gaze.

The Chasm was a mere foot away. They stood before the lip, achingly close to the void. She did not dare move, lest she slip.

“Please,” she rasped, turning her head toward him. Desperation overcame her. It roiled in her core, streaked down her arms and burned her palms with its cold fear. She looked at them and found them coated in frost.

“I owed my life to him,” Phineas said, holding her still as she wrestled with the wind. “Many times over.”

“Please,” she said again. “D-do not throw me to the Chasm.Please!”

“Yennes,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “It is a fitting name.”

Farra said nothing, shielding her face instead from the onslaught of ice and snow that lanced her skin.

“My last favour to you, my brother,” Farra heard, and then her feet left the ground.

She was plummeting into that dark abyss, identical to the belly of death she had clawed her way out of. Only this time, the fall was accompanied by the swoop of wings, the strong encompassing of pale arms, and the sensation of her spirit leaving her body as she dropped and dropped and dropped.

CHAPTERFORTY

Within the Terrsaw palace, the Queens sat aghast, astonished by the woman at the end of the bed.

A woman with frost covered hands and wary eyes.

A woman who spoke as though her own voice frightened her.

“You… you journeyed through the Chasm?” Alvira uttered, though it was clear to her that the tale was true. How else to explain the Glacian magic she held in her palms?

“I did.”

“And you bore a child. With one ofthem?”

Yennes blanched at the accusation in her tone. “Yes. Which brings me to the favour you promised,” she said, attempting to stand taller, to broaden her shoulders. “I have cured her,” she said, gaze flicking to Cressida. “Let me leave from here.”

“And where will you go?”

Yennes did not answer immediately. There was calculation in her eyes. “If you can offer me no hope to retrieve my son, then I… I will make my peace with it. Start anew.” The lie burned her throat on its way out. She recalled with perfect clarity the Glacian King’s taunts to punish Thaddius’ son as he’d cut the wings from his back. There was no peace to be found now. None.

“Ah,” Alvira answered. “Yes. Well, such a request comes with a few conditions of course.”

Colour leached from Yennes’ face. The smell of the dungeons below returned to her. Her hands twisted together.

“An iskra witch walking amongst good folk? It would be rather rash of me to let you leave from here and do as you will.”

“I only mean to return to my lodgings,” Yennes said.

“I shall need to know where you will stay,” Alvira continued. “And should I call on you, you will obey the summons.”

“Call on me?” Yennes asked, her eyes narrowing. “What–”